Poetry / Writing

Poetry Friday: Enjambment and Peach Jam

Catherine Flynn10 Comments

How did it get to be September first? At this time of year, I always think of these lines from Charlotte’s Web:

The crickets sang in the grasses. They sang the song of summer’s ending, a sad, monotonous song. ‘Summer is over and gone,’ they sang. ‘Over and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying.”

E.B. White, 1952

This time of year also makes me nostalgic for my grandmother’s peach jam. So when Margaret challenged the Inklings to “write a poem on any topic using enjambment” for our September challenge, I couldn’t resist writing a poem about jam.

Your kitchen

exists only in my memory but I
can walk through that sunny room 
as if I was there yesterday.

I can open the silver bread 
box and find a loaf
of Pepperidge Farm
white bread, then
pull the cover off
the toaster, pop
two thin slices into
its hungry cavern where
they turn golden and crisp.

While I wait, I get a knife
from the drawer by
the dishwasher and
butter from your old
tan refrigerator. A jar
of peach jam sits on 
the table. I pop the
wax seal from its mouth
just as the toast pops
up. I spread butter over
the warm, toasted bread,
then slather the rich,
honey-colored jam
on top. Cinnamon 
sweetness fills the air
as I take a bite and dream
of you.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2023

Please be sure to visit all the Inklings to read their enjambment poems, then head over to Ramona’s blog, Pleasures from the Page, for the Poetry Friday Roundup.

Heidi Mordhorst @ My Juicy Little Universe
Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche
Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

“A little maple tree in the swamp heard the cricket song and turned bright red with anxiety.” (Charlotte’s Web) Photo by Lisa Leo via Morguefile

10 thoughts on “Poetry Friday: Enjambment and Peach Jam”

  1. Not only just ripe peaches and perfect enjambment, but the senses of taste and smell place me right there with you eating toast and jam. You must have quite a collection of poems about your grandmother. What a special woman she must have been.

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  3. Our grandmothers stay in our memories so very sweetly as your loving poem testifies, Catherine. I love how your poem gushes over the smell and taste and sound of your grandmother’s jam. I’m imagining she would love how you’ve written about it!

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  6. I love how your poem flows from the title into that first line. You’ve tapped into such a rich memory here and chose the perfect details to bring it to life. The Charlotte’s Web quotes remind me that it’s been too long since I read that masterpiece. Thanks for sharing those, too.

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  7. Your details are wonderful. That silver bread box, toaster in my grandmother’s kitchen…I can see them. I even love the tan fridge. By the time I read the last line I simultaneously taste and crave a peach. Well done, Catherine.

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  8. Well, I was right there with you, suspended line by line full of anticipation for the next detail! (The only thing that interrupted that was the concept of a cover over the toaster. What?!) And I love how her kitchen became your kitchen, seamlessly past and present together. Nicely done, Catherine!

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